


Jam

by kiki-eng (kiki_eng)



Category: Coupling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-21
Updated: 2009-12-21
Packaged: 2017-10-04 21:55:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/34512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiki_eng/pseuds/kiki-eng
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wherein Sally and Patrick throw an engagement party and there is some level of interest in the type of jam being served there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jam

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheoWinterwood](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=TheoWinterwood).



_"Patrick! Patrick, do you have any more_ jam_?" asks Jeff as he rushes up to him with Steve._

_Patrick's living room is full of men in tuxedos and women in long floaty dresses, dancing. He's standing by a group at the bar, who are talking with Sally and the women are saying things like, "Oh, it's so _large_." And Sally is beaming happily, daily limit on facial expressions forgotten just now. _

_Jane goes careening by with Oliver, whooping loudly and alarming all the other dancing couples, and Patrick is momentarily distracted._

_"Jam, Patrick! _Jam_!" Jeff says, waving his hand in front of Patrick's face._

_"I'm sorry, what?" replies Patrick._

_"We need Jam."_

_"...Right. ...What type of jam?"_

_"The sort with bits in it."_

_"Bits?"_

_"You know, of fruit, like spent blueberries."_

_"_'Spent blueberries'?_"_

_"You know, the ones that have released their essence, Patrick."_

_"Jeff, blueberries do not propagate by means of- whatever it is that you're suggesting, Jeff. No, just no." says Steve._

_Patrick eyes Steve speculatively, and then Jeff._

_"We still need jam," Jeff says._

_"Right," says Steve, "Lead us to your preserves, Patrick."_

_Patrick shoots off a double finger gun salute and says, "Preserves, coming up. You stay here; I will be back in one instant." He heads off to the kitchen, and he looks. There is indeed jam._

_Sauntering back up to the bar, he opens the jar with finesse. "Jeff, Steve - jam. Spoon or knife? Would you like some sort of" – he pauses - "_cracker_ with it?"_

_Jeff takes the proffered spoon and says, "Just the jam, thanks." He spoons himself some jam, puts the jam-laden spoon in his mouth, makes a considering face, swallows, and says, "Patrick, there are no bits." He turns to Steve. "Steve, Patrick's jam is missing its bits."_

_"Alright," he says, and addresses the room, "Everyone! If I could have your attention, please: I'm really sorry about this, but you all have to go; Patrick _forgot to get jam with proper bits in it_!"_

_"Oh, _Patrick_," someone says, and all of the people start filing out of Patrick's flat. Jeff goes with them, mysteriously with both the jam and Patrick's spoon. "No bits in it," he says to Oliver as they pass each other on the way out. _

_"I can't believe Patrick forgot to get jam with bits in it," Oliver says._

_"Really, Patrick," says Jane._

_Steve closes the door behind him on his way out._

_"Patrick." Sally says quietly, standing by the couch, alone._

_"Listen!" he says, "I'm sorry- I- you didn't specify... which... jam."_

_"I told you I wanted apricot-ginger, for the nice crackers."_

_"I'm sorry, Sally, I am, but, you can't just... expect me to listen all the time when you're talking! It's unreasonable!"_

_"_Unreasonable_? Patrick? I'm being _unreasonable_?"_

_"Well, _yes_!"_

_"You _forgot the jam_, Patrick!"_

_"Look, I'm sorry, okay, I'll make it up to you." Patrick says as he sidles into her space suggestively._

_"You cannot make it up to me, Patrick! There is no 'making it up'. Everyone had to leave, Patrick, because you didn't get the jam."_

_"No offence, but I think it's an honest mistake - ginger... -whatever, orange marmalade..."_

_"Patrick, even the marmalade didn't have bits. Marmalade should have bits."_

_"It's one of the marks of a good jam, Patrick - it means it's real." says Jeff from the couch._

_"How could jam _not be real_?" asks Patrick. "What would be the point?"_

_"Oh, you know, purposes. ...when I saw Soylent Green, as a child, I was terrified! My mother had these wafers and I had eaten them, and I checked the ingredients on the box and it didn't _say_ people on it anywhere, but there were all these _weird_ science words - stuff that wasn't real food. You know how they take things out of stuff and then they don't list the stuff it came from? It was like that! So I looked all of the words up, you know, _just in case_ \- and some of them weren't even in our dictionary! I had to go to the library, and use the really big dictionary, and Mrs. Raven – the librarian - was there - she used to _beat people_ who hurt her books - I was _terrified_, that if I made one small rip, one small fold she'd tie me to the rack and brand me with the metal book ends!"_

_"I'm sorry - brand you?" asks Sally as she and Patrick sit down._

_"She had this wonky electric kettle, and she used to 'accidentally' leave book ends under it - like people did with really old irons, and then she'd 'remember' that she had them there and move them, and sometimes there'd be this _sizzling noise_ when she set them down on paper - I was afraid there'd be a fire! So I never, you know, _lingered_ there and I wore protective gear, obviously. Anyway, where was I?"_

_"Soylent Green." says Patrick._

_"Right, so I looked all of the words up and it turned out they were _chemicals_ \- preservatives and stuff, so then I started worrying that they were trying to preserve _me_, you know, keep me fresh for when the time came."_

_"_'When the time came'_?" asks Sally._

_"_Bastards_."_

_"I don't understand. What is the point of this story?" asks Patrick._

_"You know, I don't _really, strictly speaking,_ remember. I think I may have ...wandered ...a bit." says Jeff._

_There is a minor embarrassed silence before Sally fills it. "The jam, Patrick! The jam you forgot! For our _engagement party_, Patrick!" _

_Patricks shifts uncomfortably in his chair. "Ah, right. I'm really terribly sorry about that, Sally."_

_"It's alright, Patrick."_

_"You're going to let him _get away with it_?" asks Susan incredulously, suddenly leaning against the back of his couch with Jane, who looks distressed, or self-obsessed, it's hard to tell._

_"You know, Susan, I never thought I'd say this," she says, "but you have a point. You really have to take him in hand for this, Sally."_

_"I know, I know, you're right." She says resignedly._

_"What do you think, girls?" asks Susan, "the really tiny policewoman uniforms?"_

_"I _love_ those uniforms!" cries Jane, excitedly._

_"Yes... -No, there are not going to be any uniforms! Patrick forgot the jam! Goodbye Susan, Jane."_

_Susan and Jane promptly and casually wink out of existence._

_"You know, I'm not sure you're supposed to be able to do that in other people's dreams," Patrick points out tentatively, scratching behind his ear._

_"I think that says more about you than me, Patrick. It is _your dream_."_

_"Mmmm," says Patrick, as he starts leaning towards Sally with intent._

_"I'm not quite sure why Jeff is still here, though," she says._

_"It's a gift," says Jeff, still sitting on the couch._

Patrick and Sally's engagement party isn't for two weeks time, and it's not really supposed to be a big deal, and Patrick's not really that sort of bloke, but he keeps asking Sally about it, checking in on little details that he wouldn't ordinarily care about, that it's downright strange that he does, except for how it isn't, because he's always been a little bit strange about Sally – peculiar. And invested. He had her ring for longer than Steve had Susan's, wasn't afraid of what it meant, wanting commitment for the first time ever. Sally doesn't follow his usual relationship patterns; she's not like any other woman he's ever known. With Sally, Patrick cares about the specifics; he wants to do things properly.

So, when he wakes up, he asks her about the apricot-ginger jam, and it's right where it's supposed to be.


End file.
